


the past is a foreign country

by grains_of_saturn



Category: Final Fantasy Type-0
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Memory Loss, Past Relationship(s), Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 08:45:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17619191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grains_of_saturn/pseuds/grains_of_saturn
Summary: The three of them used to do everything together.





	the past is a foreign country

**Author's Note:**

> For the 31_days prompt, "How will you bear living somewhere you don't know yourself." (14th Jan/2019)

Life at Akademeia was that of a castle built on sand; Emina had always known that. From the first moment she stepped through its gates, walking amongst bright-eyed students ready to prove themselves to their class, for the Dominion, _for the Crystal_ , she had waited for the hand on her shoulder and a disapproving glare that said _we know why you're here. We know what you're up to_. She had been nervous to begin with, but such things could easily be ascribed to the situation of a new student, and as such, she fitted in perfectly. She fitted in perfectly, as she had been instructed how to do so. To those around her, she soon became the example of the perfect student - high grades across the board, always ready with a smile for her classmates, skills proven on and off the field. Emina Hanaharu, shining gem of Class Fifth.

The only way it could end, she knew, would be by way of _the mission_. Either she would succeed, in which case she would have done her own part for the fall of Rubrum, or she would be caught and identified before ever having got that far, and for that circumstance, she expected no mercy (from the Dominion itself, or indeed, from the Empire). Every smile was put forth in an effort to ensure her truth would seem implausible. Indeed, who would ever suspect _her_ , of all people...?

Word from Milites was infrequent, and largely concerned with the passing on of what information she could gather. In the time that passed between each communication, Emina thought that it might be nice if she were able to put her purpose to the side; she couldn't, but she thought it would be nice if that were possible regardless. If each gap could increase, and continue to increase, and perhaps there might never be another communication--

The first time she had sat in a classroom, she had looked around at the cadets around her, wondering who might be the first to give her away. They accepted her, though; for all intents and purposes, she looked back on her time with Class Fifth - _her_ Class Fifth - fondly. That feeling never quite went away, though; years passed, and she stood as a teacher in front of a class - a class to call her very own - and could only marvel on the fact that, somehow, she was trusted enough to guide these students in their studies and their purpose alike. Each and every student, hopes for the future pinned upon them. Emina, left wondering what there was she could possibly pass along to those students. ( _Fit in_ , she was told. _Do what they expect of you_. Sometimes she wondered if her demeanor and platitudes seemed poured on too thick, but her students seemed proud to have her leading them, and those of other classes seemed jealous in turn. Emina still felt as obvious as anything, but it _worked_.)

She presented a conundrum to those around her, she knew that much. Those who were only acquainted with her would say that she seemed close to everybody, and yet those she was close to could only say the opposite. Intentionally, she kept few of the latter by design; a younger version of herself might have seen little issue with stringing friendships along, but in practice, it was exhausting. _This is all a lie_ , she told herself. They were friends with the Emina Hanaharu that they knew, which wasn't _the_ Emina Hanaharu... or something along those lines. And yet, in those long gaps between Militesi communication, it was so tempting to fall into that lie, simply be the friend that they all thought she was, and think nothing more of it.

As it turned out, friends had a funny way of attaching themselves, somehow, to Emina's life. Kazusa had had a reputation for being _strange_ from before Emina had ever known him, and he seemed quite intent on maintaining that notion amongst their peers (and beyond). However, there was something refreshing about the time they spent together - he would come to her with ideas that, from anybody else, might have seemed outlandish, but from him? Worryingly plausible. He would be taken by his fascinations, and fascinated by the strangest things. Emina didn't know the moment that Kurasame had, too, been pulled into Kazusa's gravity, only that it had happened sometime before she had ever met either of them, and that the sight of the three of them together became an everyday occurrence to those around them. In one way or another, the three of them were each known to those around them for some feat or feature; Kurasame's ruthless skills on the field, Emina's beauty, Kazusa's deep knowledge of science and theory. To those around them, it seemed to make sense that fate would draw them together.

Kazusa would ask her, often, what she was thinking. With anybody else, she might have worried, but she was long used to his open fascination with the human mind, and all that went on in it. It was easy enough, too, to smile and deflect any line of questioning; an easy dynamic to fall into. Kazusa's suggestions, Emina's smiles, Kurasame's sighs. Lunch taken together, walks on the terrace. Laughter underneath the blue Rubrum sky. _The life of a normal student_.

_Seduce them, if you must. You're capable of that, aren't you? It's a surprisingly effective weapon. Learn to use it, as you would any other._

When Kazusa had said " _I should like to examine your body,_ " Emina couldn't be sure if that was a statement to be taken at face value or not; of anybody in Akademeia, she could believe Kazusa and Kazusa alone to say something that with completely non-sexual interest. Regardless, she smiled, she deflected. Hid the terror of her knowledge of the mark on her body, that one obvious thing that could leave her exposed in a moment. She would wake in Kazusa's lab, mind drowsy, running self-conscious fingers across the fabric of her outfit.

" _Knocking me out like that... you could do anything, if you wanted._ "

" _If I wanted._ "

" _Don't you want to?_ " She trusted him not to, but knew that trust in itself was a flimsy thing. _After all, you trust me, don't you, Kazusa?_ While she was out, how much effort would it take for him to see _just that much_? Yet, if he ever had, he gave no indication.

" _I should think that to be quite a betrayal. Wouldn't you?_ "

" _And this isn't?_ "

" _This, my dear, is research...! That, I think you'll find, is something quite different entirely. You see..._ " (and then he would embark, once more, on tangents that Emina barely had the energy to try to understand - but there was something calming about that, too. _Kazusa in his natural habitat._ )

They had been teenagers once, and that was a refrain that had echoed as the years had progressed. Again, it always seemed to be Kazusa pulling them into these things; there were few places in Akademeia that were fully _private_ , but students had their ways of finding places that were less frequented, if need required it. Time spent together where even the silence was comfortable, heads resting on shoulders or against laps, a nap taken or a kiss given - whatever they felt like. Kazusa and Kurasame knew of Emina's avoidant nature, but that was just how she was, and that was the Emina that they knew and adored. Emina and Kazusa knew how stubborn and forthright Kurasame could be, but that was just how he was - aside from those occasions spent together, the rare moments in which he would allow his stress to melt away. Kurasame and Emina knew of Kazusa's strange scientific predilections, and that the manner in which he behaved did nothing to quell the rumors that would spring up about him - but knew also that there seemed to be a part of him that enjoyed that, and that was just how he was, too. That was, over the years, how they were.

 

\-----

 

"... Who were you, Kurasame?"

The memories shown to her, by way of Kazusa, stick in her mind for days afterwards. She has known, in the past, pain, and loss, and death - the blank lack of recollection feels more familiar than anything else does. And she knows the facts: Kurasame Susaya, Class Zero's CO. A man formerly known as the Ice Reaper, and - at least until summoning of the Verboten Eidolon - the sole surviving member of the Four Champions of Rubrum. Kazusa had requested his Knowing Tag, and she'd retrieved it for him. There had been no emotion attached to that favor; sometimes, Kazusa had requests. Sometimes, she could help fulfill them. That was all.

She wasn't sure she'd ever seen Kazusa like that. For the years that they'd known each other, she'd certainly seen different sides of him - but Emina still wonders, _how was it that we met?_ Their relationship, ill-defined as it is, is nonetheless sturdy, but she can't think of what part of herself as a student might have picked _him_ to associate with. Was it simply a meeting so unremarkable that it didn't bear the effort to recall, or... had Kurasame been there? They'd seemed so happy together, in those memories. (The fact that she'd let herself _be_ that happy also came as something of a surprise.) The evidence had been there, in front of her eyes. Rationally, she knew the process. Still, she felt nothing for it. Protection from the Crystal, they said.

Emina had watched Kazusa, then. The way he'd paced around, unease etched across his expressions. It was unquestionable that Kurasame had died, but the concept of loss through that fact felt alien to her. Moreso for Kazusa's own reactions. He felt, very specifically, as if he had _lost_ something. That _they'd_ lost something. He included her in that; she wasn't sure why. Others had always called Kazusa strange, but this was the first time that Emina had really _felt_ that. _Your behavior is strange, Kazusa._

_It's strange._

Regardless, she waits until after student curfew to pass through Akademeia like a shadow, something she's long grown accustomed to. The corridors are familiar to her, and the way to Kazusa's quarters, intimately so. _It's stress relief_ , she'd often told herself. She knows, also, the dismay that would spread through the student body if they had any idea of her going to _Kazusa's_ room on a fairly regular basis, but she is confident in her ability not to be detected. They would gossip about so many things, blind to the things that were in fact true; the thought never failed to amuse her.

She thought nothing of it as she approached the door to Kazusa's room, but it's on opening it that she feels something - something out of place, almost. It feels like the opposite of déjà vu; she's been there so many times that it's practically as familiar to her as her own room, so where did that feeling come from? She knew that Kazusa's door was always open for her. The sight of him, there, at the desk, under glow of lamplight, is practically the same thing she sees every time she steps forth. _Is it?_ His bed is tidy and well-made. He hasn't gone to bed yet, so naturally, the sheets wouldn't yet be disturbed. So many times, she'd walked into his room - Kazusa at the desk, and she would look to the bed, and -------- would be there--...

"Emina?"

For a moment, the confusion is overwhelming - but just for a moment. _Ridiculous_. She reaches out to the wooden edge of the bookshelf she knows is within reach; she doesn't _need_ to steady herself, but to feel something solid and familiar and _real_ comes as something of a relief. It's only a small thing, but Kazusa notices it, as he notices most things.

"... Do you feel unwell?"

"I'm fine--!" She feels aware of having put a little too much into those words, destroying their sentiment in the process. "I--... I'm fine."

"Hm."

Kazusa moves with a hesitation she finds unfamiliar, although not entirely unexpected given his demeanor in the laboratory over the past handful of days. He stands up as she easily lifts herself to sit against the edge of the desk, legs crossed over one another, leaning forward slightly as she peers up at him. His expression still seems troubled, at least until he is close enough to block out the lamplight; faltering momentarily, he then kisses her - and it feels as familiar as Emina remembers, but there's still _something_ that sticks at the back of her mind, the longer it is that Kazusa behaves like this. _This is how it always was... wasn't it?_ She thinks to turn the question back on him, but the moment passes, pushed aside by other distractions. Whatever feelings might have preoccupied him, they clearly weren't enough to dissuade hands at her waist, helping Emina out of her trousers with an oft-practiced ease. The smooth of the desk beneath her is, also, well-known to her - cool against bare flesh as she spreads her legs, gone from her mind as Kazusa guides himself close and then within her in a single thrust, holding her with an arm across her back and the other against one shoulder as he rocks his hips against hers at a steady pace.

The warmth of another person does wonders to clear the mind, Emina finds. She sighs deeply as she presses her head against Kazusa's neck, feeling warmth there, despite being obscured by clothing. Her trousers lay to the side, but that was all that was needed - this was enough, and Kazusa had had years to get used to the fact that, for this, she would always keep her shirt on. Perhaps unbuttoned, to tease, or practically unfastened, breasts exposed, but never fully naked.

As a student, it hadn't mattered. Those moments stolen around Akademeia, frantically finding the space and the time around their responsibilities, just enough for what they needed. She'd worn the standard skirt of the cadet uniform, back then - it had made things easier, at the time. It had felt so natural, too, between the ----- of them. The nervous excitement of youth, and the realization that they were free to do as they liked - the school board might not have approved, but it wasn't any of their business. Simply, they loved each other. If it so happened that there were ----- of them, rather than the expected couples that dotted Akademeia's hallways - again, that was nobody's business but theirs. Sat in --------'s lap, kissing Kazusa, feeling the thrill of something that felt instinctual yet transgressive both at once--

They never had any reason to stop and so those encounters continued, through and beyond their graduation and still, evidently, to the present day, the present _moment_. Emina feels that she knows Kazusa's body and touch as far as it is possible for her to do so, and yet something still feels--... _missing_. (She closes her eyes and holds him tighter.) Not in the profound sense that Kazusa seemed to have experienced, but still a feeling within her that only increases as she lets her body move as Kazusa guides her. As much as she can trust anybody, she trusts him, but--...

He shudders his climax into her, and she wonders if he even notices that it isn't her name on his lips, whispered into the curve of her neck, so quiet and so _desperate_. They hold each other still, then silent but for the sound of their breathing, harried, returning to normal. Emina opens her eyes, still leaning into his warmth.

"... Kazusa..."

He doesn't reply. As much as he'd allowed himself to be distracted, that hesitation returns as he makes to move away from her, his gaze not meeting her eye as he steps away from the desk. Emina knows she could confront him on this, but instead drops gently from the desk to her feet, walking over to approach the bed. She gives a breath of a laugh as she falls back against it, the covers making a soft sound as she shifts against them. "Not to say that that didn't feel good, Kazusa, but you've still got a job to finish."

"... Of course."

Kazusa drops to his knees at the foot of the bed, running his hands along the underside of her thighs, then pulling her close with a firm hold and deft strokes of a tongue that knew her, inside and out. She sighs and squirms as the heat within her builds - _but you were always good at this, weren't you? Even -------- agrees_. (Never with any real plan made, just going with whatever they felt in the moment. Riding his face beneath the dappled sunlight of groves off the beaten path, watching him fucked and kissing -------- hungrily when she couldn't take it any more. Time spent together as if they were the only people in the world, finding comfort in each other and being able to forget the pressures of being a cadet, just for those moments. Memories tied so strongly to Kazusa's presence, but also--...)

The dimly-lit bedroom makes those sunlit days feel like a distant dream; the thought of having ever been so carefree seemed strange, if not alluring. _That was us, wasn't it?_ Could only have been them, had only been them. Her thoughts fracture against Kazusa's efforts, but fragments persist; of feeling safe, of feeling loved, of wishing she could return the trust they seemed to bestow on her so effortlessly in kind. They couldn't have known the limits placed on her feelings, the conditions surrounding those. For all intents and purposes, she trusted them. _Both of them_.

She bucks against Kazusa's hold as sensations overwhelm her, gripping the sheets before strength leaves her body, physical satisfaction washing over her. She thinks of nothing in particular in those moments, at least until Kazusa speaks.

"Do you... remember?"

"I--..." The immediate urge is to respond with _remember what?_ but he doesn't have to elaborate, she knows what he means. Emina turns her face to the side, glancing towards the window, as if the night sky beyond might offer any kind of suggestion. She doesn't remember. She thinks she might understand, however, the way in which Kazusa spoke of loss; she isn't entirely sure her reaction is one based purely on emotion, but the knowledge that _somebody else had been there_ is a disconcerting one. And she's known many other people die, in the past - or at least, she presumes she has - but it had always been her policy to never get too close, because what did that ever get you? She'd seen classmates distraught on the field, unable to explain the tears that clung to their cheeks as they made the return to Akademeia. She had never questioned that process - _after all, wouldn't it be worse were it not the case?_ Their time would pass, but the future always remained.

(She thinks of all the students that have passed through her care over the years of her career; _Class Zero don't remember him at all_. As a commanding officer, he must have guided them in his own way. _They don't remember him_. The class would have been his responsibility, and so too would they have the impetus to live up to that. _Not a single one_.)

"... I don't. I--... I think I understand, though."

Emina shifts to sit up against the pillows at the top end of the bed as Kazusa sighs, going to his wardrobe for his nightclothes, changing into them with little fanfare before going to sit on the edge of the bed. He looks at Emina then, glancing up and down her resting figure. "What do you understand?"

"I remember... us. Time we spent together. Time I spent with you. But--... it wasn't just you, was it? There's nothing of him there in my memory, but I remember you. I remember how you behaved, back then. The way you smiled. I--..." She hesitates. "I... think you loved him."

He gives a sad smile, looking away from her. "It seems a ridiculous conclusion to come to, doesn't it? I can barely imagine it. What would there have been, back then, that would have swayed my attention like that? My study, my research, I remember all of that... and yet, to fall in love amongst all of that - doesn't it seem out of character?"

"You'll make me feel lonely if you keep talking like that."

Emina's statement isn't serious, but Kazusa looks to her for a moment as if he fears it could have been. He moves to sit beside her, looking down at her once more. His eyes narrow, as if in concentration; he reaches out to touch her, but differently, this time. Pressing fingertips to her skin, as if searching for something. She watches as he does so, but it stirs no other reaction except for the lightest physical pressure.

"Our thoughts aren't all that dissimilar. I can't think of a path that would have led me to you, and yet... somehow, here we are. I feel like I might have spent my entire adolescence within the research laboratories if I hadn't had people around me to urge me outside - and who would it have been, but you and him? I remember... feeling happy, when I was with you. There was something, back then, that overwhelmed me. I know we spent that time together, but if it had been you--" (He withdraws his hand.) "-- I would remember. Wouldn't I?"

She stares forward, not looking at any one thing in particular. "Do you think that I loved him?"

"I--... I wonder."

Similar to Kazusa, she can't imagine it. She can't imagine dropping her guard so entirely, even for something like _that_. However, she remembers nothing and Kazusa - the most intelligent person she knows, for better or for worse - only seems capable of making the most basic connections. If she had felt for Kurasame then as she feels for Kazusa now - _that might have been okay. I would have been fine with that_.

"... I won't stop. Even if it's only a little, I feel that I've made progress. Memory is a living thing, after all - we have proof that he lived, even if we don't remember. But he was here, wasn't he? Years spent alongside the two of us. Perhaps he, too, lay in this bed, as you are now. I--... I want to remember, Emina." He laughs, sadly. "I can't explain it any further than that. There's no reasoning behind it. I just... want to, that's all."

"Well... if anybody can do it, I'm sure you can."

"Your flattery is quite becoming."

"I'm serious...! I don't see anybody else in Akademeia researching in quite the way you do... though maybe there are reasons for that. I'm sure the Consortium would have you put your time to 'better' use, however it is that they might define that."

"My private time is my own, surely. For something that might be considered a side-project, a hobby interest... well, it's nothing to do with them, is it? I can see little use to them dictating my activities to _that_ degree." He glances away. "I suppose I can't convince you to stay? You seem to have made yourself comfortable."

They had their own routines, their own little traditions. She would go to him, never the reverse; she trusted herself to wander Akademeia undetected, and knew that Kazusa cared little for that sort of thing. His door, however, was always unlocked, at least when she was the one to visit. To stay through the night - it tempts her, sometimes. The beds in their rooms are all largely the same (she presumes) but it would be relaxing, she thinks, to come here for that purpose and fall asleep in Kazusa's bed and think nothing of it, but it's for that reason that she knows that she can't. Navigating Akademeia after curfew is one thing, but the morning was something else entirely - you never knew who was likely to be skulking around, faculty member or student alike. They had, mercifully, reached this point without comment; it was the least of her concerns, but Emina still didn't feel like dealing with _so we saw you walking out of the East corridor this morning, what were you doing there?_ in any capacity.

"You'll have to keep the bed warm in my absence, I'm afraid." Emina leaves the bed, then, as if to underline her point. She picks up her trousers from where they had been discarded, and then sets about making herself presentable to the outside world once more. "Another night, perhaps."

This, too, is usual. Kazusa smiles. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"Well, you never know what the future holds. It's important, isn't it? To believe?" Emina only meant her question casually, but she sees Kazusa's expression cloud over once more. He pulls the bedcovers aside to get beneath them then, as if to shake away those thoughts.

"Sleep well, Emina. If you could turn off that lamp on your way out?"

She smiles, "Of course."

 

\-----

 

Emina returns to her room, but even there, late as it is, sleep feels impossible. It has been obvious to anyone that Kazusa has been preoccupied - as have they all, admittedly, so at least Emina feels that she has an excuse, should anybody ask. At the same time, she _knows_ that is only an excuse, and so can't explain it. She wouldn't have given the matter much thought at all had it not been for Kazusa, she knows that much; in general, she stays away from _whatever it is he does in that lab of his_ , so what made it different _this_ time? She stands in front of her mirror, despite doubt that it might give her any answer.

Her body looks as it ever did; there is nothing unusual to be seen. The way Kazusa touched her, the fit of his body against hers - she was used to it. There was comfort, there. A shared history that, if she wasn't careful, she almost felt that she could rely upon. _And yet--_

She wonders if she might ever have gone to Kurasame's room. It would be too late for it now, but she wonders what his room had been like - if visiting, perhaps, might have stirred anything at all. ( _Likely not_.) The rooms given to faculty members were all largely similar - the same size, the same furniture, practically the same view out of the window. Nonetheless, they still brought their own personal touches - if students were to bring her gifts, then it seemed like the least she could do to make use of them. Kazusa, for an example, was less interested in such things, but would frequently be surrounded by papers and books in an order that only made sense to his own mental organization. It was impossible for those rooms to _not_ reflect their personality, given the time spent there and the length at which they had done so - _so what was in your room, Kurasame?_ Was the bed in the same place, or had he moved it? Was there anything he'd collected? What books did he have on his shelves? If she went now, she knew it would be as if there had never been anyone there at all. She'd retrieved his Knowing Tag when Kazusa had asked for it, but anything beyond that was out of her range of experience. Akademeia dealt with Kurasame's death as it did with that of anybody within its walls, and it wasn't something that Emina ever considered as being anything to do with her.

It seems strange to think it, though. The manner in which Kazusa had pressed his fingers to her skin, simply _wondering_. She wonders now, too. It is something she is rationally aware of, but something she'd never spent too long considering - but those who were married, in relationships, _whatever_ , they would lose somebody and they would _know_ , even if they didn't remember. The fact would remain that there had been something there once, and that _something_ carried with it a certain expectation. Like that, Emina supposed it practically commonplace to lose the knowledge of the history of your own body, but it is only now that that strikes her as unsettling. (She doesn't remember him. She would never have thought to even think about that had it not been for Kazusa's own preoccupation with the subject. His behavior regarding Kurasame's passing is strange and now, she worries, _so too might be my own_.)

How was it that he'd seen her? How might he have touched her? She doesn't know, only knows that she can never know. She turns her shoulder to the mirror, catching a glimpse of the markings etched into her skin; _would you ever have seen this?_... Even then, she thinks it unlikely. For all that she has forgotten, she still trusts her past self. She trusts Kazusa, but knows she has always kept that from him; she has no reason to believe that Kurasame would have been any different.

As Emina lies in her bed, she can't help but think about how fragile it all is. What was the weight of one person's experience? Even the simple act of time passing would cause memories to fade. That they'd had an insight to Kurasame's own was not something any person usually had access to - and she remembered herself, then. The sight of herself as a cadet, the color of their capes, how happy they'd been... she remembered that, being _happy_. The sunlight of her adolescence had almost been enough to banish away the shadows of her childhood - _almost_. (Enough for her to appreciate its efforts.) It was easy to look back through a rose-colored lens, but she has no reason to doubt her memories of Kazusa's smile. She felt sure of that. It wasn't unusual, was it, for a teenager to be so focused on romance? Even now, hardly a day went by where she didn't overhear the students around her gossiping about _something_.

She wonders, in retrospect, if it was cruel to have spoken to Kazusa so easily. The fact that he had been in love sticks steadfast in her memory - she remembers admiring him, back then, for being able to be so honest with his feelings. Good-natured teasing, silly teenage frustrations.

" _What do you know about being in love?!_ "

" _Simply, when you know, you just know...! Ah, such a mysterious part of human existence..._ "

There was only fond nostalgia to those memories - _so presumably, Kurasame accepted his feelings?_ She knows that she loves Kazusa, but to be _in_ love is something different entirely. To love somebody enough that, even after death, you still feel compelled to remember them? She can't think of what that would be like. _Isn't that going against the will of the Crystal?_ (Not for the first time, Emina doubts that the Crystal really cares all that much.)

She feels aware that there will be a day on which Kazusa looks towards that memory of the three of them, recognizing only his own face there. She feels regret for it being so inevitable, but knows there is little she can do to prevent it. Her loss would bring with it only mystery - she can't imagine that she could motivate Kazusa as strongly as Kurasame seems to have done. That feels correct, but she knows she'd be lying to herself if she didn't admit that it also felt empty, somehow. For someone to want to remember her after death - there's a responsibility there that Emina isn't sure she wants to think about. _Of course, I wouldn't be the one who'd have to think about it, anyway_.

Kazusa is relying on her, though, in a way. Knowing that he doesn't remember anything, only acting on a hypothesis that relies on _people having known Kurasame_ \--... and what when they are gone? What, then, when the trail goes truly cold?

 _By then, he won't remember_. If anything were to happen to Kazusa, she supposes she would be in the same position. She held those memories fondly, but they had already been cleaved in half. Then they would be gone entirely, the steady erosion of memory something that they simply all accepted. She glances in the direction of her desk, despite the darkness of her room; _would it help to write something down?_ She wonders. Already, parts are missing. It would be best, she thinks, to avoid leaving any evidence of her time at Akademeia. _They'll probably call me back eventually, so..._

(The concept almost comes as a comfort. To step away from Rubrum soil, knowing that any mistake made would erase her tracks completely. Her life has never been her own - she knows that much. She treasures her memories, but knows they can only die with her. As with anybody.)

She thinks of Kazusa, still. _Can he really do anything about this...?_ She thinks that there might be no harm in trying to help him, if at all possible. _What was it he said - a hobby interest? Nothing that Milites needs to know about_. She'll visit his lab in the morning, she decides. _Do as you like. Take what you need. If I can bring you some measure of peace, then that's more than I could hope for--..._

Closing her eyes, Emina touches her fingers to the skin of her chest, unable to shake that curiosity.

_Was this something that you knew, Kurasame?_

The touch causes no great insight, no further memory.

_There's nothing there._


End file.
